


Captivum in animo suo (Prisoner in your own mind)

by SynItza



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels), This Is No Romance (Webcomic)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Bloodplay, Cannibalism, Character Death, Chemical burn, Electricity, Forced auto-Cannibalism, Graphic Description, Kidnapping, M/M, Not accurate used tools, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynItza/pseuds/SynItza
Summary: The moment Sid had invited Raven into his mind, he had created a room for another person in his spirit. Now there is place for a sub-tenant, who will accept the offer? - Small tip: This man can love way too much...





	Captivum in animo suo (Prisoner in your own mind)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Captivum in animo suo (Gefangener im eigenen Geist)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822581) by [SynItza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynItza/pseuds/SynItza). 



> Greetings,
> 
> welcome back to the dark corners of my soul where I torturing my favorite character to my heart's content (and this time I leave the torture to the dear Mr. Strade because he has more experience in it than me *grin*) I feel almost as I need to apologize to someone, but the owners of this wonderful OCs have given permission on their tumblr.com-sites that one may use their characters for one's own sick little games. And to you, dear readers, I needn't apologize, because who has somehow found this FF, knows, what one will get into (at the latest when the person has read the tags)
> 
> DISCLAIMER: None of the appearing characters belongs to me and I don't intend to explain the respective universes.
> 
> ~ (This is no Romance) belongs to _gatobob.tumblr.com_ ( <\--you should definitely read this)
> 
> ~ (Boyfriend to Death) belongs to _gatobob.tumblr.com_ / _darqx.tumblr.com_ / _electricpuke.tumblr.com_ ( <\-- playing this horror porn game is at your own risk, but worth *grin*)
> 
> (Strade, incidentally, occurs in both universes (to avoid confusion))

A hard, painful kick against his hip awakened the young man abruptly from the dark mist that prevailed between sleep and wakefulness. Frightened, he looked around and found himself in the nightly recurring, nightmare scenery. ‘No, not again, please, not again! I cannot deal with it anymore!' he inwardly shouted desperately. Uncontrollable trembling passed through his whole body. This, however, remained the only reaction he dared to show to the outside. The experiences of the past few days had made him silent - yes, the less he used his voice, the faster this hellish time passed…

 

Still, he still couldn't explain why he came back every night. It simply didn't make any sense. The only connection he ever had between this dreadful torture chamber and his daily routine was that he awoke again and again in this rundown space of his spirit only ever since he had let Raven in his mind. There were only minor variations to the original room, which distracted him from the torn-down wallpapers, battered furniture, and the surrounding garbage. These were numerous tools, heavy chains, and blood... so much blood, his blood. And, of course, a second presence that was responsible for all the new changes.

 

Strade knelt down to him and smiled almost worried at him, "Good morning, Sid. Did you sleep well? I hope so because you'll need your strength today, for all the sweet things that I've planned for both of us. Come on, buddy, sit up straight a bit more." He gave him an almost gentle slap on the cheek before he grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and righted him from his almost lying position. After his tormentor had checked the chains to still holding his hands tightly around the column, which had suddenly appeared in the room, he turned to the little chest of drawers, where his numerous ‘toys' were neatly stowed away.

 

This gave Sid the time to think about his words... what should these lies mean that he had slept?? This was the nightmare, not vice versa. Every night he was haunted by the man from Ravens memory, who seemed to have made it a task to torment him at each of their meetings in a new way. Why hadn't he quite figured out yet?

 

At first, the younger man had believed that it was the stress about losing Farz; As a sort of metaphor for his mistakes. Selin had admired Strade. She even had entered the military for him. Just to get to learn about his sickly sadistic streak. They were clashing and mutually 'killed' each other. His mind had taken this story as an occasion to punish him for his enthusiastic ideas. He had really only wanted to help his friend and had caused his absolute collapse through his chaotic and dangerous notions. Farz had trusted him as Selin had trusted Strade and he had been rewarded with a mental blackout. Sid punished himself with the man who had caused Raven so much suffering ... At least that was the first thought.

 

But now this dreams had been going on for so long that he felt no longer certain. Later, he had played with the idea that it was possibly the alien Strade that had been found a way to him and now haunted him like Raven did to Farz. But he had no pendant like his friend, which could have served as a kind of soul-vessel for this abominable monster. He had only the strange memory of this woman as a confirmation who had seen him as her partner that this man had once existed. Maybe he was just some reincarnation of this psycho? But that wouldn't explain why he would torture himself then. That would be too abstruse, even for such a seemingly perpetual happy lunatic like Strade.

 

It was very confusing.

 

At least there was an indication that it was perhaps only a fragment of his own mind and not an invasive entity. Because this man before him couldn't take over his body like Raven had done with Farz; this realization had been an enormous relief for him. He didn't want to imagine what this sick bastard could have done with his face. Unfortunately, he saw it right in front of his inner eye, what he would do to some stranger just like him, should he ever be released into the world... and all this in Sid's body. Shit, that was a creepy thought!

 

Strade finally turned around with a few start-up cables. Then he disappeared briefly from his field of vision, only to emerge again with a car battery. To the trembling from before, the prisoner now broke out in cold sweat. He could already imagine what this session held for him. Damn, he didn't want that. Why couldn't he just wake up? After all, he knew that this was a nightmare. Why did he have to endure all of this shit? If he didn't know that it was counterproductive, he would most likely burst into tears. So he breathed deeply and blinked the salt water away. ‘I must control myself!' had become one of his most important inner mantras.

 

Strade crouched beside him again and smiled frisky at his prisoner. "You know the procedure, buddy." he laughed softly as he began to cut his clothes from his body with the knife. Yes, he knew that only too well. Every damn night he had the same things on he had worn the day before. And because his torturer wanted to see him in all his glory, when he suffered, he turned the respective t-shirts and pants into colorful cloth confetti. The fact that he was less careful with the blade, and that he always scratched into the pale flesh of the tied-up young man, only suited Strade more. He seemed to love red blood on almost white skin. This always got him in a flush. Sid, on the other hand, feverishly tried to make this the only excitement for him; because there was so much worse than physical pain...

 

His tormentor watched greedily as the first drops of his life juice run down the canvas of his body. And yes, he was like a bizarre work of art now. Although his wounds disappeared during his awake phase of the day, as if no hand had ever been laid on him (which was also true because he was injured in a fucking dream and not in reality), during his sleep the injuries came back as nasty scars. They looked as if they were all decades old, but none of them would fade completely. Sid hated himself that he could accurately remember what the cause was for every white line, deep dent, or almost circular discoloration on his body. And there were so many... so fucking many of them. He should do something against the attacks and not always let it happen. But he was simply weaker than the other man and the consequences of his rebellion weren't worth the revenge. For instance, he had been able to stab this psycho with a knife out of his stupidity - the satisfaction of seeing the deep wound on the chest of his torturer was short-lived. And what followed afterward... shit, now he felt like vomiting again...

 

During his inner disdain for his weakness he had completely missed that it had been spoken to him until he had got a harder slap on his head this time: "... listen? Oh Sid, I thought we had a moment together here. But now I have to explain myself again... No, better. I just show it to you. ♥" To underline his statement he brought the crocodile clamps together, which with their other ends had been attached to the car battery, and produced a flash whose light turned his face into a frightening, nasty grimace for a second.

Sid tore open his eyes horrified and wincing almost painful to the loud crack. ‘He cannot be fucking serious?! Crap!! Wake up to Sid! Come on, you can do it! Wake up, wake up, wakeupwakeupWakeUpWAKETHEFUCKUP!!!!!'

 

The panic seemed to be visible on his face because the madman starts laughing with joy as he approaches Sid and simply attaches one of the rusty sharp-edged clamps to his left nipple, which immediately began to bleed. Already this alone brought the tears into his eyes. He bit hard on his lower lip to not cry out loud; only a whimper stuck in his throat could be heard. If it was so very painful that he wanted to scream now, how could he be soundless for the rest? He mustn't give in, doesn't give in at all! ‘I have to control myself. I have to control myself. I just have to control myself!'

 

But his strengthening mantra was forgotten the moment the second clamp briefly touched his skin over his navel. He couldn't even take a breath to answer the pain that flowed through him with the shriek like he would have preferred. Instead, his lungs were shocked by electricity. In the panic, Sid tried to make his diaphragm move. ‘I don't get air. Oh my God, I ASPHYXIATE! No, no, no, no, no ... breathe, damn it KEEP BREATHING! I don't want to die! NO! Not this wa~y!', circled the thoughts frantic in his mind. Desperately and instinctively, he rammed himself against the pillar behind him, as if the unyielding stone were a loving person knocking on his back after he choked on something.

 

That tension wasn't dissolved until the clamp touched him a second time; this time on his right thigh. Then he could breathe again, too. The new electric shock, however, lasted longer so Sid's first breath was torn from his painful lungs again with a bloodcurdling scream. At this moment, his mantra had been completely disappeared from his mind - instead, he wanted to give this agony which flooded him a voice; he shrieked until his voice gave way. Even long after no electricity flowed through him, he involuntarily twitches as a kind of aftereffect. He gasped for breath and it sounded somewhat wettish. Everything in his body hurt him, and that prevented him from thinking clearly. He could concentrate simply on nothing more than the burning of each individual cell in him. That's why the young man hadn't even noticed at the beginning that a hand had been soothingly stroked his hair until it pulled hard on the strands, forcing him to look at his tormentor. The man in front of him licked excitedly over his lips and the redness in his face underlined this action again. "I should have guessed it would loosen your otherwise so tied up tongue. You had been so quiet the last few days that I had already thought your will was already broken. But you cling to this life, don't you? - That pleases me. Oh~h that really pleased me because it means that we will have so much more... _Spaß_ … with each other.", Strade panting huskily. His breathlessness, however, was due to a different cause instead of the misery and pain Sid had felt now.

 

The younger man felt not only the white-hot scorn for this madman at the moment but rather was he grateful in a misguided way that he could manage to breathe freely again. The fear of suffocation was a profound phobia of himself. And even despite the fact that he was disgusted with himself and felt sick, he couldn't shake off the feeling of gratitude.

At least not until his head was jerked against the column behind him and his tormentor muttered something about ‘Round 2'. In his daze, Sid couldn't prepare himself for what will come next and was completely surprised when the clamp touched his skin the third time. If he had really believed that he had already experienced the worst, he had to correct himself because Strade didn't stop this time to electrifying him for more than a few seconds. Instead, this psycho painted a large, ‘S' with the opened crocodile clamp in his bleeding and in this place blackened flesh. The pain that shocked his body in total immobility and silence found no comparison to anything he'd ever felt before.

And then suddenly his vision was blurred. Sid hadn't even noticed it at first, but his heart beat into a loud but strange rhythm. It felt as if the current would bring the blood in his veins to boil and overload the fist-sized muscle in his chest. If the electricity wouldn't cease to flow through his body soon, his life-giving pump simply will fail. Suddenly completely panicking he tried to distract the artist from his work. Even his shrieking, inner voice fell silent with every passing second. That will be his end...

 

Suddenly everything stopped.

No light fell into the surrounding darkness.

No sound penetrated the all-devouring silence.

...

No redemption flooded his body, tormented by pain, as several hard hits against his chest prevented him from drifting peacefully into oblivion.

 

"You don't go away yet, _Liebling_. Oh no, you stay there, Sid. We aren't finished for today. Be a… _guter Junge_ and come back _zu deinem Besitzer_." Whispered a hypocritical-worried, husky voice of excitement to him.

 

Everything cried out in his body that he could no longer bear this strain; that he only wanted peace now. But then again a fist struck his chest like a battering ram and the sound of his own heartbeat filled his ears. He lay on his back, panting, and could do nothing more than breathe and press his eyes shut, hoping to awaken from this nightmare.

 

Then the burning began. While he had struggled with his death, Strade had hastily freed him from his chains and laid him on the ground to give him a cardiac massage in his brutal manner. Just that he wasn't just lying on the blood-stained carpet but on the damp cement floor. He couldn't say exactly how it had happened, but his torturer had destroyed the car battery in his hurry, and the electrolyte fluid had spread over the entire surface – he just chemically burn his skin of the back by sulfuric acid.

And although he could sense how every movement tore his skin farther open and the acid found deeper ways into his body, Sid was in a catatonic state knowing that he could do nothing more than to let it all happen until he finally died after all.

 

Tormented by pain his brain could no longer operate clearly. It was just too much. He just wanted it to end.

 

And then a thrust was shaking his whole body. And then another. Then new pain broke through the mist of his numbness. He twitched, trying to escape the new piercing pain from his abdomen, but his movements made his rapist even faster and more violent. A single broken cry broke from his maltreated neck when he felt an unnatural heat in his lower body that tried to consume him.

 

That was the last straw. It had been a miracle that he had still control over his senses, but now it had grown too much stress even for him. Both the burns by the electric current, the poisoning by the electrolyte, and the numerous bleeding wounds by whose causes that were too numerous and cruel to think about it, caused his body to collapse a second time. Sid wanted to feel the joy to be able to finally go into oblivion, but the session today seemed to have burned out all emotions except for suffering.

 

And so he suffered.

For even in the dark, he found no peace, because the echo of the voice of his tormentor pursued him there: "You are too good to me, my darling. It had been such a fun today. We must repeat this definitely again sometime soon. _Ich bin ja so froh, dass du ganz allein mir gehörst..._ "

 

 

 

* * *

♥♥♥(>^.^)>  (<.<)…?!       (>.<)       !?...(>.>)  <(^.^<)♥♥♥

* * *

 

 

 

In a cold sweat, Sid sat wide-eyed. His rapid breathing was ragged and it felt as if he still would get too little air in his lungs. His attempts to take deeper breaths were prevented by an all-consuming panic that had come over him immediately after his awakening. But before he could lose his consciousness because he hyperventilated, a sharp pain shot through his body that forced him to curl up into a tight ball; unfortunately, the protective fetal position helped little against the psychosomatic reaction to his nightmare. Then his left hand had spring reflexively to the particularly fierce spot on the crook of his neck, where Strade signed in his skin. He couldn't feel the carved in initials of his tormentor although the flesh seemed to be unnaturally hot there. After all, he wasn't really hurt – he neither had bloody, deep wounds nor had blackened burns. Perhaps he was a bit feverish at the moment, but otherwise, he was perfectly healthy.

 

Because. It. Was. Just. A. Fucking. Dream!!

 

However, that didn't change the fact that his heart was pounding so very loud and fast in his chest that he believed that it was still tortured by electricity and therefore would quit the service soon. Fear, phantom pain and still very vivid pictures of his nightmare shattered his self-control completely and he began to cry his eyes out; hence no one could hear his wailing he choked every sob in a pillow. This, incidentally, also helped him with his breathing problems, because it was like he had been breathing into a paper bag.

 

The hot tears, which felt like as if they had burned itself in his cheeks, dried up only very slowly. Just before the young man could fall asleep again from exhaustion, he, however, struggled to get to his feet. He didn't want to get back in Strades clutches in the same night again. This was the only reason he got up from his prone position and looked for the first time around in the room in which he was awakened with swollen and still wet eyes - he hadn't slept at home in his bed but had rested on a battered but soft coach. Then it also came into mind again why he had stayed with an acquaintance: it had been another experiment whether a change in his sleep routine would cause a difference in his dreams.

 

Unfortunately, it hadn't been the first failure.

 

Previously, he had tried with teas and then with harder sleeping pills to have a dreamless night. Except it only resulted in an extending time of sleeping and thus a longer timeframe for torture without any positive effects to occur. The next attempt was to stay awake as long as he could until he fainted from exhaustion. The expected dreamless night, however, had never happened. Strade had shown him in that session, how much ‘fun’ one could have with cannibalism - this psycho had not only ripped much of the flesh from his thigh with the teeth and had devoured it in front of him, but also had given him sized pieces from his own calf to eat... he had been feeling so bad after awakening that he hadn't even made it to the toilet before he had vomited bile all over the floor. The whole day Sid had the taste of raw, but especially bloody meat in the mouth.

 

This time he had tried to test if the proximity of a well-known person would make a difference. The hope had been that he would feel more confident and thus finally stop his dreaming of the familiar hell. But obviously, that hadn't worked out. No, instead, his mind seemed to have punished him even more violently for this idea - twice dying during a dream had never happened before. For death usually meant awakening in the real world. But this time his tormentors had revived him; therefore he had denied him the saving of waking.

 

An ice-cold shiver went through his body when he realized how powerful his tormentor had become.

Abruptly the desperation returned. What should he do? - In the end, his ideas how he could help himself without asking anybody else for advice ran dry.

 

But he didn't even know what he should ask of said others. Of course, he didn't want to dream of his so-called ‘owner'. But was the solution really to no longer drifting into the dream world? Shouldn't he somehow try to achieve a change in his nightmares... maybe he had to defeat his inner demon only once and he was finally liberated from him. Unfortunately, he himself was physically weaker than Strade and had almost no chance to defend himself properly, or even get free to attack him. How should he banish such a powerful opponent from his mind?

 

Maybe he should learn lucid dreaming? - If he just could wish away the chains, he would have more opportunities to resist. Easier said than done. That took practice... which took a lot of time. And he didn't know if he wouldn't lose his mind before his time run out. ‘NO, I'll make it. I will not allow myself to be controlled by such dreams, or even by a madman like Strade. I'll do it because I am the master of my own! He isn't my owner! I will not let that happen!!’, Sid self-motivated.

 

With new resolve, the tired man put on his shoes. He would go home now and make a detour to the gas station to stock up his energy-drink supplies. A few exhausting days of research and nights of hardship will come to him soon.

 

He hoped that this time there will be a final solution to his problem because otherwise he really had no further ideas to awaken from this nightmare which his life had become.

**Author's Note:**

> The last points are personal:
> 
> (1) This FF is available in German and in English.  
> (2) Here the Translations:  
> ~ _Spaß_ ~ fun  
>  ~ _Liebling_ ~ dear, darling  
>  ~ _guter Junge_ ~ good boy  
>  ~ come back _zu deinem Besitzer_ ~ come back to your owner (here it means a pet owner)  
>  ~ _Ich bin ja so froh, dass du ganz allein mir gehörst_ ~ I'm so very glad that you only belong to me alone  
>  (3) I have no beta-reader for both versions - so don't be surprised if you find mistakes
> 
> Again, I would be happy about comments, both the sky-high jubilant praise and the shattering, but constructive criticisms.
> 
> Thank you for your attention.  
> Your Syn
> 
> Ps.: By the way, I wanted to mention briefly that Strades affection for Sid is one 'bleeding heart' - player of the game know what this means *grin*


End file.
